Wind Garden
by Twill
Summary: [sequel to Skin Deep] Chronus has called on new allies that pose a far greater threat to the heroes than any monster. They try to figure out his latest plan and protect the prophecy. That is, if they don't forget about it first.
1. Absent Hearts

Disclaimer: I do not own Class of the Titans. I'd have no university woes if I did.

Thanks to Lost Experiment. She'll know why by the end.

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**Absent Hearts**

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Herry's head was pounding. He groaned weakly and rolled to the side, uncomfortably reminded of the way he felt when dealing with Sybaris. Fortunately, there was no strange, cold sensation as there had been after he'd been bitten. No distant sound of Jay's voice pulling him back to the land of the living, either. When the glow on the back of his eyelids subsided, Herry opened his eyes. The gym was almost pitch black. The only light was dim, filtered in from headlights and lamp posts out on the street. It was also completely empty.

"Guys?" he called. His voice echoed around the room and bounced back at him like a ghostly whisper. Silence pressed in around him as he waited for a response. "Jay? Atlanta?" Herry steeled himself and grudgingly called for the Titan. Even Chronus was absent.

The descendent of Hercules carefully got his feet under him, pausing for a moment to let a wave of vertigo pass. His footfalls sounded loud and heavy as he made his way back into school proper. Herry suppressed a shiver. Bravery was one thing when he had friends to protect or monsters to fight. Alone, well, he found the abandoned hall plain creepy.

_Okay, think Herry_, he coached himself. _What happened before you found yourself on the ground and what can you do about it now?_ He considered and had to steer his mind away from speculation as to what had happened. He needed to stick to facts It was better to deal with absolutes instead of possibilities, or that was what an old junior high teacher had said. Herry focused on what he could remember.

He had brought the gym door down with one powerful shove and spilled into the dark gymnasium with the others. Neil had been occupied, and Jay had tried to help although it didn't end well. And then? The room was suddenly bright, painfully so, and he could barely see a foot in front of himself let alone his friends, which had been lost to the glare instantly. There had been something else to it, something that made it hard to stand. He had heard a sound – bells? – and then abrupt, total darkness. The descendent of Hercules had woken up in the empty gym.

Herry shook his head. "That doesn't help much," he said aloud. If only Odie or Jay were here with him. They always seemed to have an idea of what was going on and how to solve the problem. "But they aren't here, so you have to figure it out." His voice seemed to be swallowed up by the banks of silent lockers he was passing. Frustrated, Herry turned and slammed his fist into one, heedless of the large dent he created. The bang echoed in his ears, and so did another sound.

The hero froze, listening. He was sure he had heard a loud gasp or a squeak of someone surprised by the sudden noise. Herry resumed walking, slowly, now mindful of his steps. He tried to walk as lightly as possible. As he rounded the corner, he heard the quiet scuffle of someone else wandering the halls. Pulling a page from Atlanta's book, Herry pressed himself up against the wall behind some lockers, like a hunter stalking prey.

When the footsteps had nearly reached him, Herry sprung from his hiding place and reached a hand out to grab his stalker. She screamed and turned to run but stopped short as Herry caught hold of the back of her shirt.

"Let me go," Pam said, tugging uselessly against his grip. "I just want to go home." She seemed almost on the verge of tears.

"What happened? Where did Chronus run off to?" He pulled her closer. "Don't make me ask twice."

The dam burst and Pam buried her face in her hands. Instantly Herry felt terrible and he quickly let go to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder. "I don't know," she sniffled. "All Chronus told me was that I had to keep you busy while he did something else. The rest of his plan, he wouldn't tell me." The wiped her eyes, which had quickly gone red, with the back of her hand. "I didn't ask, either."

"Okay," Herry said, only slightly mollified. "But what about my friends?"

Pam looked at him blankly. "Friends? What friends?"

He fought to keep level-headed. Sweet talking was not his usual department but he had no one else to fall back on. "Jay, Archie, Neil," he listed, "and the others. My friends. Do you know where they are?"

She shrugged. "Never heard of them."

"What!" he shouted. "That's impossible. You helped capture Neil, you made a bunch of copies of him, you _loved_ one of them! You can't not remember who he is!" But her look of confusion remained and even as Herry prepared to list off all the other things that had happened in the past few hours he found himself realizing that she really didn't know. He deflated slightly and dug his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry I don't know what you're talking about," Pam offered. "Can I go home now?"

Herry nodded. "Yeah, sure." _I guess it somehow makes sense considering the fake Neil's body wasn't in the gym, either. Not that I really wanted it to be,_ he thought. Waking up to find that his only company was a somewhat messy corpse was not high on his list of desires. He watched the sculptor scurry off, probably just as eager to leave the empty halls as he was. But first, he had to figure out the problem of his missing friends. _But how do I do that?_ he asked himself. And then, with a snap of his fingers, he had it: the gods.

The hero put Archie and Atlanta to shame as he practically flew through the school to the janitor's closet. He pulled out his pendent key and fairly jammed it into the lock. The veil between mortal grounds and divine apartments seemed to appear painfully slowly as he tapped his foot in impatience. When it formed, he yanked out his pendent and launched himself through, barely missing Hermes, who flitted quickly to the side to avoid being slammed by Herry.

"Hera!" he yelled, not stopping. "Where is she?"

The messenger god, slightly tongue-tied, could only point toward her atrium. Herry called a hasty thanks over his shoulder and trotted toward the sanctuary. Sure enough, the elder goddess was busy tending to her iconic bird, the peacock, but she looked up with a smile as he entered. The smile turned into a frown as she caught his expression.

"Herry, what's wrong?" The peacock shuffled away with a small squawk as Hera stood to greet her student. "Is Chronus up to something I'm not aware of?" she asked. Around her, the various birds that kept their home in the atrium fell silent. Even they seemed to sense that something was wrong.

The descendent of Hercules nodded grimly. "He's done something, that's for sure. At least, I think he has." Herry paused to take a breath and tried to sound a little less frantic. "He attacked us with statues of Neil, and then there was this horrible bright light and when I woke up the others were gone."

Hera placed a motherly hand on his shoulder. "Herry, dear, sit down." She guided him to a bench and took a seat along with him. "Now, who is Neil and what others are you talking about?"

The hero paled. "You don't remember either?" he asked. "The other heroes, descendents of Jason, Theseus, Achilles." Hera's expression changed slightly but she still seemed not to register any of what he was saying. "Odysseus? Atalanta? Narcissus?" He was practically begging her to remember. She was a god. Weren't they supposed to be immune to whatever happened?

"I thought you understood this already, but I see I need to explain it again." Hera rested her hands neatly in her lap as she began her story. She didn't meet his eyes. "The prophecy which foretold of seven heroes uniting to vanquish Chronus has been voided, Herry. When we gods went searching for you, for the modern versions of the heroes you have just mentioned, we could only find the one descended from Hercules. You.

I fear Chronus, once he too learned of the prophecy, sought out those who would oppose him and ensure that they were no longer able to fulfill their roles." The goddess turned back to him with sad eyes. "You are the only hero we have and you have served us well, protecting the city, and us, as well as you can. So far we have been lucky and Chronus has not succeeded."

"But, luck is Neil's talent, not mine. There's no way I could have done everything by myself." He thought back to the various encounters he and his friends had had with Chronus. "Like Cerberus. It was Theresa who played the lyre and put him to sleep, not me."

She smiled a touch sympathetically. "You give too little credit to yourself, Herry. It was you who fended off the beast and returned him to Hades, just as your ancestor did before you. Hercules was quite proud of you that day."

"Yeah, but –"

Hera's expression became stony. "Perhaps the stress of heroism has finally become too much for you. It's not like you to invent people and talk about them as if they were real." She sighed. "I wish the other heroes were with us as much as I'm sure you do, but they aren't. You have to accept that."

_No, I don't_, Herry thought but kept silent. It was apparent to him that arguing the case wouldn't get him anywhere and might make the gods suspicious of his sanity, as Hera had just hinted. If there was one thing he didn't want at this point, it was to be on the bad side of the only beings that might be able to get to the bottom of his problem. He would have to do some thinking and poking around privately himself before bringing up the subject of his missing friends again. Herry didn't relish the idea of doing nothing active, but conceded silently that it would be the best course of action. For the moment.

There was a hesitant knock at the atrium's entrance and Hermes popped his head in. "Sorry to interrupt but my techno-Greeks have picked up the signs of mass panic in the city." He chuckled quietly to himself but quickly pulled together at Hera's glance. "Um, yes. Perhaps Chronus is up to his usual tricks?"

"I guess that's my cue," Herry said, standing.

Hera stopped him with a cool hand on his arm. "Are you sure you're up to it?" she asked with a touch of concern.

"Yeah. I'm the only thing standing between Chronus and his dreams of ruling the world." He squared his shoulders and tried to look heroic. "I can't let you or the city down."

"Very noble of you, Herry," Hermes said, nodding. "And remember, you can always get in touch with us for some help through your PMR. Channel two." The messenger god flicked him a quick salute and then zipped off, most likely to monitor the chaos. Herry stared after him with a touch of envy. If only _he_ could flit off so easily.

The hero found his truck parked where he had left it at the beginning of the school day, although the dark parking lot was a far cry from the bright morning he'd originally driven in. As the engine purred to life, he took a glance at the clock glowing above the radio dials. Ten o'clock. Between being sprawled out on the gym floor, talking to Pam and consulting with the gods, just under an hour had passed since the crazy light show. Herry clicked into reverse and slid out onto the road.

_It might help if I knew where I was going_. He fumbled in his pocket for his communicator. Channel two. How was he supposed to turn it to channel two? Cursing under his breath, Herry coasted to a stop in front of a red light and bent to examine the PMR a little closer. As far as he was concerned, there were far too many buttons to be useful.

A shriek jerked his attention away from the device. "Oh my God!" a woman was screaming, frozen in place on the sidewalk not far from where Herry was idled. "It's Godzilla!" Around her, other late night pedestrians were beginning to take notice of whatever classified itself as a movie monster. They pointed and shouted, turning to flee frantically down the street in any direction that wasn't toward it. The call of 'Godzilla' was taken up by a few more throats until finally words were lost altogether in a panic.

Herry had to admit, as the thing stomped into view at the next intersection, it did look a _lot_ like the towering reptile. It roared and paused to carefully crush a car under one scaly foot, its head on serpentine neck darting down to view the wreckage with an inhuman sense of pleasure. A familiar black-clad figure strolled along beside it.

The truck's horn blasted sharply as Herry crammed his fist down on the steering wheel. Even as the Titan turned to see what the noise was all about, the descendent of Hercules was scrambling out of his truck and charging down the street. "Chronus," the hero shouted. "What did you do with my friends?"

"Herry?" For a moment, Chronus looked startled. He was quick to swallow his surprise as he turned to face this small threat. "So you still remain, do you? And you hope to stop me all by yourself. How heroic," he said bitterly.

"Forget that. You obviously remember them, too, so what did you do? Kidnap them and erase everyone's memories? Is that it?" Herry tried to ignore the large dragon-like creature as it idly stomped on another vehicle with an amused growl. He had to find out what had happened.

Chronus made a show of thinking. "Something like that, I guess." He snapped his fingers and his beastly minion instantly eyed Herry with hungry interest. "But that's hardly important now. You have bigger things to worry about." The Titan laughed as the creature lunged forward, stomping its way toward the lone hero. "Much bigger, indeed."

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A/N shall be at the end of chapters this time around, I think. Just so I can talk about stuff without giving anything away before hand.

It was quite interesting to write a chapter entirely devoted to Herry. Ah, poor Herry. You have to save the world all by yourself, now. You're all grown up. Excuse me as I wipe away a tear…

Updates for this will be a bit more spread out than Skin Deep. There should be something at least once a week, but that may change as my situation where I work changes (I'm becoming the senior person, woo).

Votes for character next chapter?


	2. Washed Up

Disclaimer: I do not own Class of the Titans. I'd be set for life if I did.

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**Washed Up**

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Odie groaned softly as he lifted from unconsciousness. He felt oddly warm, almost _too_ warm, in fact. His eyes opened into slits and quickly clenched shut again as what seemed to be the same bright light that had knocked him out assaulted him again. When no clinging dizziness followed, the hero risked opening his eyes again. It wasn't so bad, really; brighter than he was used to and with a sharp edge that would probably go away as he woke up further, but really rather tropical. Tropical? He sat up slowly and had a look around.

Besides the wide blue sky behind the glare, Odie found himself sitting on a sunny beach of white sand. Water lapped gently at his feet and as he watched the ripple fade back into what could only be an ocean, the thinker realized he was slightly damp. _I guess I got dumped in the surf_, he mused. _I must have been really out of it if I didn't wake up._

He stood and dusted sand off his clothes, turning to take a look at the rest of his vacation spot. Bushy trees dotted the coastline behind him, leaves waving gently in the breeze. Odie strolled casually toward them, wondering what type they were. He was pretty sure he hadn't seen them before, at least not in person, but there was something familiar all the same. The thinker reached up to pull down a branch. Small green olives greeted him, nestled in between the leaves. Odie laughed suddenly, letting go.

"An olive tree," he said aloud. "Do olive trees even grow around here?" He quickly sobered as he realized that he didn't even know where 'here' was, so in all likelihood olive trees were as common as maple trees in other places. Which other places, he couldn't say. His mind remained hazy.

"Who's there?" someone shouted from a thick clump of the gently rustling trees. "Are you friend or foe? Show yourself!" A sudden, heavy thumping and a dry scraping noise suddenly seemed to be charging toward him from all sides. All Odie could see was green leaves and white sand.

In an eruption of shouting and clanking slapping leather, three men crashed out of the small copse of trees, waving shields and brandishing spears. They drew up short, eying him. Odie looked down at himself, noting how differently dressed he was compared to the three warriors decked out in leather skirts, breastplates and greaves. He waved casually, silently hoping they wouldn't decide to skewer him on the spot.

"Who are you?" the leader asked, pulling off his helmet, revealing short dark hair. "You dress strangely, carry no weapons. Are you a priest from the city, perhaps?" He spoke with an accent that sounded oddly familiar to the hero, but he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before.

Odie shook his head. "No, not a priest." He glanced down at himself briefly. "At least I don't think so. Is this what priests wear?" The thinker tried to produce something useful, but his mind was foggy with details in his life before waking on the beach. He was only certain of a few events, and his name. The rest was little more than a shadow.

The three shared a glance. "Do you perhaps know a lad by the name of Archie?" one asked. "He shares a peculiar look and small memory, as you do." He sized up Odie again. "Although he seems as though he may have wandered from the ships, instead of the city."

"Ships? City?" Odie shook his head. "I really don't know what you're talking about. I don't think I know an Archie, either."

"Verdict?" the leader asked. "Is he one of us, or one of them?" His two underlings considered and then flashed twin grins. "Okay mysterious stranger, you're coming back to camp with us. Maybe you can scrape barnacles or something, if you're lucky."

The four of them marched silently through the olive trees until they finally gave way to another stretch of beach, an inlet dotted with sparse dunes and sandy hills. Several ships had landed along the coast and two or three dozen men wandered about, pitching tents or tending fires. In the distance, Odie could just make out a small city. What looked like a palace overlooked the houses almost too small to see.

The leading warrior signaled sharply and a group of more casually dressed sailors approached. "What's up, boss?" one of them called. "Did you find us some women, or at least a few sheep to eat?"

"No you gluttons, another washout." Odie was nudged forward less than gently. "Take him to the other one. The two washouts can teach each other." The soldier laughed. "Scraping barnacles, maybe. We're going back out on patrol. We might find a woman yet, instead of all these blasted olives."

"Come on then," the closest one said, reaching for Odie. He pulled the thinker sharply along toward one of the boats in the middle. "Well, your name, kid?" Odie just stared at him, more than a little intimidated by the group of men. Judging by the patrol group, he was pretty sure any one of them could produce a weapon from nowhere in the blink of an eye to threaten him with. "If it helps, mine is Perdix. I'm somewhat of a tinker."

"Odie," the hero said quietly. "I guess my thing is thinking. I seem to do it a lot." He shrugged absently, turning his eyes to the dark tents. "So are you guys camping out here on your way to another spot?"

The men who accompanied Perdix laughed. The tinker merely smiled. "In a manner of speaking." He clapped Odie on the shoulder as they drew up in front of another warrior, busy setting pegs. "Archie, show Odie here the ropes. He's a washout, like you." Perdix chuckled though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Like all of us."

Archie looked up, brushing a stray lock of purple hair from his eyes. He was outfitted in much the same way as all the others, wearing light leather armor. The color was off between pieces, suggesting he had pulled what he could from mismatched bits. But the biggest difference was that he didn't seem to have a weapon. "Sure thing," he said, straightening. He held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Archie."

"Odie." As the hero took the offered hand, he was hit with a feeling of deja vu. He waited until Perdix and the other men had vanished back into the crowds. "I know this will sound weird," he said quietly, "but you look familiar to me. Have we met before? Do you know where I'm from?" The blank spaces in his memory were beginning to bother Odie, though he didn't quite know why. It was almost as if he had something important to remember, something that was just out of his reach.

The other so-called washout shook his head. "No, sorry." He scrutinized Odie for a moment. "I don't think I know you. But that might not mean anything." Archie laughed self-consciously. "I don't remember much beyond this beach. Before that, I think I was flying. Pretty crazy, huh?"

The thinker shrugged. "I'm not sure. Something tells me that a lot of weirder things could happen."

"Oh good," Archie said. He gestured to the tent behind him, following Odie inside. "You're crazy, too." A pile of mismatched bits of armor had been dumped in one corner. "You should be able to find something to wear in that pile. Unless, of course, you prefer looking like that."

Odie bent to examine the heap. "And what's wrong with the way I look?" he asked with a smile. "Maybe I like standing out." He found a bit of blue cloth and pulled, dislodging a sweatshirt. "And unless I miss my guess, you stood out no too long ago yourself." Archie only shrugged and waited as Odie gathered a small pile of what appeared to be his size. The thinker glanced up. "I'd like to change in private, if you don't mind."

"We're both guys," the warrior replied using the standard _I've seen it all before_ line. Odie simply stared at him and Archie shrugged, turning around.

"Has anyone told you what's going on?" Odie asked as he stripped. "I get that they landed on the beach and they're pitching tents, but I doubt it's because they want to sit around campfires cooking s'mores." He grunted as he pulled on what could only be called a leather skirt. _Why couldn't more soldiers be petite?_ he wondered.

Archie was silent for a moment, choosing his words. "I think they're going to invade the city," he said, "but it's supposedly really hard to do. That Perdix guy said something like, 'Only the worthy can pass the border, and we will prove how worthy we are very soon.'" He frowned and turned around. "Something about it seems intentionally vague. I don't like it."

The thinker yelped in surprise and quickly snatched up his red sweater to shield himself. He laughed timidly and fiddled with the straps of a chest plate. "Yeah, that does sound weird." Odie paused his frantic dressing as something else struck him. "I thought they were just staying here temporarily?"

Archie shook his head. "Maybe once they sack the city they'll move on." He took a few steps into the tent and reached out to yank the shirt away. "Now if you're quite done, we should go see what we can do around camp."

They swept outside and into the bustling energy of a war camp. Odie shrunk back beside Archie, trying to disappear in the warrior's shadow. He was extremely uncomfortable running around in a leather skirt and underwear. He wasn't sure the other men had underwear and was dreading the moment when a stiff enough breeze managed to rustle the pleats. Archie on the other hand seemed almost at home. The warrior's eyes swept back and forth, lighting up each time they landed on a particular weapon or spotted something happening that made Odie very happy to be more of a brain.

"Hey, you two!" Perdix's shout drew them up short. They spotted him waving them over, and weaved through the crowd toward the tinker. "Now that you're suited up, we need to see what you can do."

"Great," Archie said.

"Yeah, great." Odie had less enthusiasm.

In the blink of an eye, two spears were sailing toward them. Archie easily reached out and grabbed the weapon out of the air. He hefted it in his hand, testing the balance. Odie was far less graceful. After managing to catch it, he fumbled with it, trying to get a good grip. He was lucky enough to avoid skewering an eye – his or anyone else's – before the spear gave up on him and clattered to the ground. The thinker stared at it with a mixture of frustration and annoyance. He refused to look up and see the expressions of the other two.

Perdix cleared his throat. "Obviously Odie isn't a spearman," he said. "We'll try you with a sword or a bow a little later. Do you think you could handle those?"

"Honestly? Not really. Like I said, I'm more of a mental giant than a physical one." He tugged at his armor. "I also prefer the clothes I woke up in."

"We can always use a priest," the tinker suggested. "Which god do you represent?"

Odie stared at him blankly, nothing coming to mind. He was about to say so when an Archimedes-like flash of inspiration possessed him. "Hermes," he said. "I'm all about Hermes." The thinker held onto the bit of memory that had sparked his answer. In some way, he really was connected to the messenger god. Odie couldn't say how or why, except that maybe he was a mortal avatar for the divine after all.

Perdix nodded. "How fitting." He met Odie's eyes. "You're perfect."

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So it was a tie between Odie and Archie, which actually worked perfectly since they're stuck together. Hurray!

To LadySwift – You're right, writing should be for the sake of writing, not for reviews. The votes were not to try and get more reviews, but to give readers a chance to direct which part of the story they see next. It doesn't affect the story itself in any way, merely which heroes they see in what order. Personally, I like a bit of author-reader interaction.

Thank you, everyone, for all the reviews. I hope this chapter lives up to expectations, and I can promise you that once the heroes have been established, writing will go smoother. If you'd like to vote for next character, I'd love to know. I've got a few ideas myself.


	3. The Quiet Jungle

I don't own Class of the Titans. It's sad, but it's true.

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**The Quiet Jungle**

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It was like everything was holding its breath, she decided. If she stopped walking and just listened, there was nothing. No birds, no rustle of wind, just heavy silence. Where were the sounds of nature? She would even take the generic buzz of crickets over the quiet, although she was pretty sure crickets were not a common bug in Mediterranean forests. The soft tread of her own footsteps was her only company.

Her shout of surprise broke the quiet nearly an hour later as she pushed past a particularly thick clump of stumpy trees and stumbled upon a doe that seemed to appear from thin air. It stared at her with headlight eyes before springing away in a graceful leap to disappear with little more than a whisper of leaves into a clump of bushes. She remained there for a few minutes, half to catch her breath and half to try and fathom if the deer had even been there. It took a close examination of the ground to find evidence that the experience was real.

As she continued hiking, the silence became oppressive. Her thoughts began to mimic the nothingness all around her. She stopped wondering where all the animals had gone, or why there were no other people besides her. It was just a matter of wandering past branches and down paths that were little more than spaces between trees where the undergrowth was not quite as tall, all in the hopes that she would find some semblance of civilization, or something that would explain the silent forest and her drifting. Her thoughts cycled backward as she walked, replaying the moment that had brought her here.

Everything had been cast in blue before her eyes without warning. She felt the familiar sensation of being almost outside her body, a hovering, unseen observer touching briefly on the flow of future time before being sucked back to the present again. The future she witnessed was not so far ahead as other visions had shown her. This time, she saw seconds in advance and even as she watched she could sense events taking place around her. She could even see herself, standing frozen and sightless in the throes of her vision, as reality continued on without her.

She saw the body fall in two pieces and barely an instant later heard the distant thud of it hitting the ground. Reflexively, she winced when the light of an unnatural dawn streamed brightly through the windows, flooding the gym with white. But even as she saw herself tumble to the ground in pain and confusion, watched everyone swallowed in the glare, her vision eyes could see _through_ it.

Chronus surveyed the downed heroes with smug satisfaction. She waited for him to summon his scythe and try to do away with them once and for all, but he never did. Instead he summoned a portal and stepped through, saying something without sound over his shoulder as he disappeared. A faint chime answered him and the light began to fade. One by one, Jay, Archie, Neil, everyone vanished, including her, as the gym grew dark. Just as the vision, too, began to fade, one body was returned. She strained to see who it was when everything went black.

Theresa shook her head. She was beginning to think that she'd had the vision just so someone knew what had happened. What _had_ happened, anyway? Chronus hardly seemed his dramatic self, and there had been no fight or struggle, just simple surprise. And they had all disappeared… to where, exactly? The fighter hadn't seen any of the other heroes when she woke up neck deep in silence and greenery. She wasn't sure if that meant they had been whisked off to another part of the same forest or to another place entirely.

She pushed her way through a patch of tall shrubs and stumbled out into a sudden clearing. After being hemmed in by trees the openness made Theresa feel almost exposed, naked, but pressed on. A few minutes of walking through high grass passed by and she felt comfortable again. The fighter even went so far as to venture a tune to drive away the eerie silence. She whistled a breathy rendition of "Pop Goes the Weasel."

Just as she reached the notes that gave the song its title, a flock of slender white birds spooked a few meters in front of her, wheeling wildly through the air with little sound beyond the drum of their wings. Theresa, on the other hand, cut the air with a second shout of surprise, ducking down to avoid the panicking flock. As her voice died, the cry was taken up by a chorus of other voices and the air was suddenly full of moving blurs other than the birds. Arrows whistled overhead.

"Stop shooting!" she yelled, throwing her hands up to cover her head.

If anyone heard her, there was no indication. Theresa hunched down and sprinted for the tree line as feathers rained around her. She tried to ignore the _thwip_-ing sound of arrows narrowly flashing past her nose or ghosting through her long, trailing hair. The harsh voices, alien sounds after her silent hike, continued to shout savagely around her. The fighter hit the trees running, chanting _serpentine, serpentine_, in her mind to match her racing heart. Arrows sunk into bark with loud thumps.

As she ran, pushing past clinging leaves and barely keeping her feet high enough to miss twisted roots that seemed to snake from shadows to snatch at her sneakers, Theresa caught glimpses of movement at the edge of her vision. Birds hopped nervously on tree branches, a buck sprang gracefully into a patch of undergrowth, and several shapes distinctly more human kept pace with her no matter how hard she ducked and changed direction through the forest. Everything remained soundless, except the chasing voices.

The fighter pressed on, ignoring her lungs as they started to protest. She broke through the forest into another clearing and almost stopped in surprise and dismay. How would she avoid being hit out in the open? But she had to try and she pushed herself even harder. Flowers flew up behind her as she sprinted, instead of birds. Little clouds of pollen bloomed in her wake.

Her vision clouded with blue just as the first heady suggestion reached her, smelling almost sickly sweet. She saw herself struck on the shoulder with an arrow, stumbling and falling into a cloud of pollen with a shout of pain and surprise. Shapes bristling with spears and what could only be swords surrounded her, crowding out her vision-shape until everything went dark. Theresa snapped back to reality in time to dive, rolling, to the side to avoid being hit. The fighter banked hard toward the dark line of trees to her left.

Theresa slowed as she re-entered the forest, straining to hear some sound of her pursuit. Only the rustle of her own pursuit filled her ears. She stopped completely, panting, and looked around sharply. _I'm a hero_, she thought. _I can't keep running. I have to defend myself_. Unconsciously, Theresa dropped into a ready stance familiar to her martial arts-proficient mind. The silence pressed in around her.

With only a faint, dry hiss as warning, an arrow pierced the air, lancing toward her chest. She threw herself sideways, managing to turn what could have been a fatal hit into a smarting, glancing blow. The fighter sucked in a sharp breath of pain, gasping as she wrapped a hand around her upper arm. A warm smear of blood trickled through her fingers. As the small sound of discomfort left her lips, dark shapes immediately swarmed her. A wall of nocked arrows and leering spears barred any thoughts of running.

Theresa suffered a grim flash of realization: the forest was so quiet because any sound meant death. She had given herself away in her careless crashing through bushes and past trees, in shouting as the birds fell like stones around her, and in her small exclamation of pain. She envied the startled doe that had been almost a ghost, in spite of its fear.

Throwing a grimace at the assorted collection of pointy things aimer her way, Theresa took the chance to see who exactly had been hounding her. _Amazons_ she thought instantly, taking in their collective scantily armored appearances. At least, the appearances of the ones in front. As she continued scanning impassive female faces, Theresa found others in dresses and skirts made of cotton instead of leather. Some of them, remarkably, carried no weapons at all. With a wince, she raised her hands in the classic surrendering position.

"I give up," she said.

A murmur ran through the group. A bow in front of the fighter wavered and lowered, slowly. "A woman?" The Amazon seemed confused. She blinked owlishly at Theresa and took a step closer, stumbling over a patch of clear ground. Several of her companions giggled quietly, also dropping their weapons down. "You're a woman?" The Amazon asked. Her voice seemed strangely thick.

The red-head nodded carefully. "My name is Theresa."

The woman nodded in a distracted manner. "I am Nona. We thought you were game." She waved a hand sharply at her followers and all remaining weapons were withdrawn, almost vanishing into the crowd. Nona reached out a hand to touch Theresa's injured shoulder, just above the cut. She seemed to sway on her feet. "You're hurt."

"It looks worse than it is, I think," Theresa said, quick to brush it off. Something told her that blaming the crowd of women for the injury would not end well.

"We'll take care of it." Nona stepped close to inspect the wound with an unfocused intensity. Theresa caught a whiff of something sour, but it was gone again as the apparent leader turned away to wave at the group. "Back to camp. Theresa is my guest." She laughed. "She's not game anymore."

The mass of women fell in around the fighter and normal conversation started up. Theresa was so grateful for the sound of voices, now that they were friendly, that she took the strangeness of her company in stride. A few commented on her long hair and its color while others found her clothes quite interesting. Fingers poked and tugged at her. Whispers flitted back and forth behind her.

"So," she said, interrupting another round of fascinated comments on her appearance. "Are you all Amazons?"

A chorus of laughter was her first answer but was quickly muffled behind hands or in the shoulders of others as they realized she expected a serious answer. "Not really," one girl said. "We're not that serious. But some of us came from them in the beginning, I think." She flashed a wide smile. "We're not into the Artemis thing."

"Artemis thing?"

"You know," her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, "_chastity_."

Her friends shared another round of giggling. One of them went as far as to hiss, "_Leuci_," in a tone that suggested some big secret had been revealed, perhaps to shake the very foundations of the universe. Theresa hid a smile of her own.

"I see," was all she said.

Leuci blushed slightly but was determined to continue. "We all have," she giggled, "_guys_, you know? And they're awful fun to dance with, and stuff." She bent closer to Theresa, grinning. The fighter caught another whiff of the same sour smell she had caught off Nona earlier. "Do you have a guy?" Leuci asked.

Jay's face instantly came to mind but she shook her head. "No. At least, not like yours." For a moment, Theresa wondered if the descendent of Jason would ever become her 'guy.' _Probably not while Chronus is around_, she thought.

"Oh, well, you'll definitely get one," Leuci reassured her. "Maybe even two."

---

Someone asked for one of the girls, and so my plans for Theresa worked perfectly. I admit, though, that this chapter was tough to write. There's just something about her that makes things difficult when she's the focus and alone. As soon as you add other people, no problem. Well, hopefully future Theresa chapters will be smoother, and this one isn't too bad.

Neil is coming, and I'm thinking even next chapter. It's about time some suggestion of what's going on is hinted at, and where better than with the one who seems to have caused it? I'm looking forward to it already.

Thanks once again for the reviews. I'm quite happy that you're enjoying my story. And just in case anyone was wondering, I imagine 'Leuci' being pronounced as 'Lucy.'


	4. The Lady's Garden

I don't own Class of the Titans. It's on my Christmas list, though.

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**The Lady's Garden**

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He was new and that automatically made him interesting to the others. Word passed quickly and soon the new one had a ring of observers, even before he started regaining consciousness. They whispered among themselves when he moaned and halfway rolled over. Silence fell seconds later when She arrived, humming artfully under her breath and carrying something made of white linen.

The Lady moved swiftly with practiced experience. He lay completely naked for a heartbeat, the Lady taking every inch of her new companion in while she could. She nodded in satisfaction, pleased that he was everything she had come to expect and thrilled that at long last her private collection was complete. It was almost with regret that She pulled the white tunic over his head, taking special care not to muss up his hair too badly.

She stood gracefully and smoothed out the wrinkles in her saffron-colored dress. The others scampered forward when she beckoned, a few pausing to get a better look at the new one. The Lady smiled tolerantly and then gathered them all together. A hush fell over them when she began to speak.

"This is Neil," she said softly. "His place will be the pools, so that he may always have a chance to look at his reflection. I want you to be friendly but if he seems quiet, don't worry." She glanced fondly over her shoulder at the blonde, who looked as if he was only sleeping. "It might take some time for him to adjust."

The others nodded solemnly, glancing at Neil from the corners of their eyes. With a small smile, the Lady departed with a quiet whisper of fabric and faint tinkling of bells. They almost immediately crowded around the blonde.

"The pools?" one murmured. "They've never been private before, have they? Do you think he'll let us use them?"

There were several nodding heads. "Of course. I mean, I think so. Why wouldn't he?"

Neil stirred, lulled awake by their hushed voices. At first the others didn't notice his slight movements and blinking, bleary eyes. But when the descendent of Narcissus shrieked in surprise and fairly bolted across the clearing to hide behind a lush, if short, tree as if his life depended on it, they all took notice. One of them stepped carefully forward and raised his hand with deliberate slowness so as not to startle the blonde further.

"Hello," he said. "We didn't mean to startle you."

For his part, Neil didn't move. He merely hunched down behind the tree a little more as if it would keep him safe from all evils and that was what he seemed to perceive the group as. When none of them seem inclined to say anything further, or move, he allowed his eyes to travel beyond them, to fully take in where he had woken up.

The clearing was grassy, shaded on one side by a semi-circle of trees, one of which he had taken an immense liking to. The side that wasn't ringed in by anything opened into what could be called a meadow or field, spotted here and there by clumps of white and blue flowers. Beyond this, Neil could make out other trees and plants that looked almost exotic, except for the fact that everything had a similar feel to it. His eyes traveled back to the cluster of people in front of him.

The one who had spoken took a tentative step forward. "This is where all the new ones first wake up," he explained. "You've been given your own spot, though." He gestured to the flowering meadow. "That's my place, there. Would you like me to show you to yours?"

Silently, Neil nodded.

"I am called Erom," the youth said as he gently took Neil's hand. He, too, was blonde and fair featured, wearing a similar tunic the one Neil had been dressed in. In fact, the hero noticed that everyone was dressed in a similar fashion. Erom gestured to two others, standing at the forefront of the group. "He is Hylas," he said, motioning to a young man with dark, wet hair snarled in tangles. "His place is at the pond with the nymphs. The other is Ai." Ai seemed gruff and impassive, arms crossed in front of his chest as he was mentioned.

Neil still said nothing, but nodded to each as they were introduced. The others, he was told, had not yet been given names. They roamed around from place to place, keeping the ones with names company or entertaining the guests of a woman simply referred to as, 'The Lady." The ones with names, the hero was assured, were never touched, merely admired.

Erom pulled him away from the wide stares of the others and led him through the field. "These are my flowers," he said as they walked. "You have some too, I think. You have to be sure to take care of them. She likes us to keep them in bloom."

Now that they were well away from Hylas, Ai, and the nameless ones, Neil finally felt able to speak. "Where are we?" he asked as they waded through tall grass and plumes of perfumed pollen. "My head feels strange." He felt as though he was dreaming, detached from everything he was seeing.

"Everyone feels like that at first," Erom assured him. "You've forgotten parts of your old life outside the garden. We all have. But it's much nicer here than anywhere else. Nothing can hurt you here. She makes sure of it."

"But how do you know it's better?"

His companion shrugged. "It's just a feeling I have." A look of discomfort clouded Erom's features for a fleeting instant, but quickly vanished as they reached the far side of his field. "We need to go through here," he said and pushed through a line of trees. "The pools are on the other side."

Together they crashed through branches and stumbled through roots, finally emerging into a shady glade of dappled sunlight, mossy rocks, and several interconnected pools of water. Neil felt a touch of familiarity as he slowly approached the edge of one. The water swirled as he leaned over, his eyes instantly locking with the gaze of his reflection. The blonde settled comfortably along the bank and simply looked at himself. Erom watched him from a distance.

Neil was content to sit staring at his image for a long time. It was only when the sun dipped lower in the sky and his reflection took on a grey tinge that the descendent of Narcissus quickly snapped his eyes up and away, preferring to look anywhere but at the water. He turned his attention to Erom.

"What do we do here?" he asked.

The youth shrugged. "Whatever we like, really. I like to run some days and sit and listen to music on others. Ai drills himself with a sword because he says it makes him look tough and disciplined, and Hylas fools around with the Nymphs." Erom smiled brightly. "You'll probably while away the hours thinking and dreaming, just like the rest of us."

"Anything more social?"

"Well, you can visit anyone you like and they'll visit you, especially since you're at the pools." He considered, rocking back on his heels. "There's always Sybil. She's great fun to talk to."

The hero's expression became blank, lost. "Sybil?" he asked.

"I could show you, if you like"

At Neil's nod the youth took his hand and led him to the far end of the glade, down narrow path cleared between the trees. An off-white lump wedged between two closely spaced cedars caught the hero's eye and he stopped to take a look. Erom pulled up beside him, reaching out a hand to pull back and obscuring branch.

"You've got a statue," the youth said. "I guess it marks this place as yours now."

Neil's reaction was completely opposite to his companion's. He paled as a feeling of nausea roiled in his stomach. His eyes were locked on the statue, which was really little more than a bust cut diagonally from one shoulder. Neil backed hastily back down the path, retreating to the sanctuary of the pools.

"I don't think I want to go out," he said.

The youth followed Neil back into the sheltered clearing clearly confused but having enough sense not to ask. He knew that settling into the garden would take time, and that the hero had touched on something unsettling from a past he couldn't remember. "Another time," he suggested.

The descendent of Narcissus was silent for a few minutes until the experience drifted back behind the veil of lost memories. He resumed his air of curiosity.

"Do you remember anything from your life before waking up here?" he asked, as if realizing he was having trouble keeping a grasp on his thoughts. Neil did want to remember something but wasn't quite sure what it was and so didn't miss it too badly. And as soon as the concern over his blank memory had risen to the forefront of his mind, he seemed to lose hold of it and forget about being worried, at least for a little while. He also had a faint notion that some things were better left unremembered.

Erom shrugged again, his look of unconcern being replaced by something that to Neil looked almost human, in a way. "Feelings mostly," he said, taking a seat on the mossy ground. "I remember always being in the sun and being happy. Of course the same goes for the garden." Then, as a quiet after thought that Neil almost didn't catch, he added, "I think I was in love."

The descendent of Narcissus' eyes traveled back to the gently moving water, almost unconsciously. As he regarded his own grayed cheeks and lips, he felt as if he, too, had found some patch of sunshine before being lost to fog. But there was a bitterness, a feeling of loss. He looked up.

"Me too," he said quietly, certain. "I think I was in love once, too."

A moment of silence passed between them, both blondes brooding on the faint suggestion of something they once had, or at least thought they had.

---

Time travel seems to be a popular theory as to what's happened to our favourite team of heroes. You'll just have to wait and see if Chronus has once again dipped into the sands of time, as he did in Labour Day.

Thank you for the reviews. I'm very glad so many people find the story interesting, and I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Neil's memory is the worst of everyone so far – as soon as he seems to grasp something significant it slips away again (I hope this was clear).

Next chapter: most likely someone revisited.


	5. Herry vs Godzilla

I don't own Class of the Titans. It would be a great treat for Halloween.

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**Herry vs. Godzilla**

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Godzilla stumbled sideways and slammed into a building with a reptilian grunt of pain. Herry, tired and roughed up more, he was sure, than he had ever been in his life, bent double as he tried to catch his breath. He kept a careful eye on the monster in case it should recover before he did. When it finally righted itself, Herry sucked in one quick final breath and got ready.

"Bring it," he yelled, trying to sound tougher than he felt.

It roared and stomped toward him, head snaking forward to snap viciously at any part of the hero it could reach. The descendent of Hercules was ready for this and managed to catch the jaws in his hands. Hot, foul breath fairly blasted his hair back in a breeze Herry would have been happy to avoid. A few gobs of spittle flecked his face.

Chronus sighed from his position on the sidewalk. "Herry, dear boy, why do we do this? You know the prophecy as well as I do and unless you can pull six heroes from your pocket you're doomed to failure." He spread his hands in supplication. "Why prolong the charade? Give up and I'll make sure your end is quick and painless. The usual deal."

"No dice," Herry grunted, barely taking his focus off the sharp teeth and gaping jaws to respond. He was determined to prevail even in the absence of his friends and hoped that in the process he could gain some clue as to what the Titan's plan was. "I'm going to beat this thing, and then I'm coming after you, Chronus."

"Then perhaps another tactic will suffice. If you vow to not oppose me, I will be willing to," he paused, choosing his words. "give you some advice on how to find your friends."

The hero's surprise was so great that his grip slipped dangerously and Godzilla's maw lurched forward, about to bite a sizable chunk from Herry's torso. Herry reacted as quickly as his tired muscles would allow, side-stepping the lunge and simultaneously shoving with one hand. The jaws closed on his left arm and sharp pain lanced through him. He stifled any shout of pain by biting his lip.

Chronus was now visible, standing quite close to hero and beast, just behind Godzilla's head. "I see my offer has appeal." He reached a hand up to pat the monster's head almost fondly. "What do you say, Herry? Information for a halt to your resistance?"

"But the world…" The descendent of Hercules warred with his conscience. He knew that letting the god have free reign over the city – over any part of the world – meant disaster. It was what he had vowed to stop. But on the other hand, if he could find and rescue his friends, couldn't they band together to stop the Titan again?

"Who's to say you won't succeed?" Chronus asked, his question mirroring Herry's thoughts. "I'm sure the world won't suffer terribly for a few days. Weeks." He snapped his fingers and Godzilla released Herry's arm. Warm rivulets of blood trailed down to his hand and dripped steadily onto the pavement. "All you have to do is say no when Zeus sends you out to do his errands. We can even agree that should you manage to get your little group back together our contract becomes void and you can fight to your heart's content."

Herry grimaced. He glanced at Godzilla, the monster's small eyes fixed intently on the wound it had inflicted. Evidently it liked the taste of hero. He considered the other gods and their certainty that he was imagining six other people. What choice did he have?

"No deal, Chronus. I may not have the prophecy to back me up, but I won't let you hurt innocent people."

"Spoken like a true hero." Chronus shook his head regretfully, and stepped away. His fingers snapped almost of their own violation.

In the future, Herry vowed to himself, he would pay more attention to old monster movies. They probably contained tips on how to fight gigantic dinosaur-like beasts that had been fondly dubbed 'Godzilla' by the resident fleeing populous. Failing that, they might at least entertain him for a few hours after classes.

As the monster's head darted forward for a second pass, the descendent of Hercules tucked himself into a forward roll, springing back to his feet well under the range of the toothy jaw. He charged recklessly forward toward the feet. Herry wrapped his arms around several scaly toes and heaved, relying on his innate mythological strength to pull him through. With a grunt he managed to lift the entire foot.

"Since you aren't open to reason, let me tell you something about this particular monster," Chronus called conversationally. The god was watching idly, leaning against a parking meter.

The hero groaned, and not only from the strain of keeping his foe off balance. "How about you don't and if anyone asks, I'll say you did?" he shouted back.

Chronus chose to ignore him. "He's the same type of creature that guarded the golden fleece, you know. A pity Jay isn't around to see it, considering it was his ancestor that found a way passed it." He chuckled and Herry could still hear it over the panting of his own breath. "Although he had a little help."

Godzilla, perhaps as tired of hearing its master gloat hot air as the hero was, shifted its weight to its raised foot. Herry strained against the added pressure. "That's nice," he managed through gritted teeth. And then he let go.

The monster growled in surprise as it lost balance. It stumbled across the street, oddly human-like as it flailed small arms in an attempt to straighten out and not fall clumsily to the ground. The Titan was quick to summon forth a portal and step through as Godzilla's tail leveled the region by his parking meter perch. He reappeared farther down the street.

Herry ran forward in an attempt to press his advantage. He scooped up a miscellaneous bit of debris and hefted it in one hand like a club. _Hercules would proud_, he thought to himself. _The club is not dead_.

As Godzilla reoriented for another run, the descendent of Hercules stood ready. He waited for the head to sweep into range and then brought up the bit of metal. The impact jarred his arm and his club slipped from his grasp. His foe shook its head and pressed on the attack. It was all Herry could do to side-step the maw. Glass and concrete debris scattered as the monster's head dragged along the road for a moment before it turned.

Wounded though he was, a good bit of the left side of his shirt darkened with blood and his arm throbbing painfully, Herry stood waiting for the next charge. How Hera and the other gods could imagine him standing alone against Chronus when he was barely holding even in this fight, the hero couldn't understand. What did they see in him that he didn't? Clutching his arm, he stumbled to what remained of a storefront, hoping he might be inspired by his reflection, in much the same way the absent Neil might be.

The Titan laughed. "Trying to fill the void, are you?" he called. "I'm sure Neil would be thrilled."

Herry ignored him in favor of wincing at his bedraggled appearance. _Some hero_, he thought, thinking back on all the male leads in some of his favourite movies. _They_ all seemed to keep it together. As he started to turn back to his scaly foe, Herry paused, seeing something in the reflection that seemed promising. Divine inspiration, some would call it. _What a lucky break_ was the thought that ran through his head as the descendent of Hercules broke into a run, ignoring the sharp jabs of pain from his arm.

His beloved truck sat parked where he had left it, the door flung open from his haste to confront Chronus' latest plot to take over the city. Herry practically dove into the driver's seat and twisted the keys in the ignition until the engine fired to life with a satisfying rumble. Turning the radio volume to full blast, the hero pleaded silently that Godzilla was cut from a similar cloth as Cerberus. He hit the on button and turned the dial to the local easy listening station. Jazz hit him in the face.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Herry mumbled to himself, pulling the door shut and revving the engine. He pulled forward until the monster was squarely in front of him. Godzilla cocked its head to follow the trill of saxophone and bass.

The truck came to a stop as Godzilla stomped a few paces forward. Its head snaked forward to nudge the bumper, sending Herry hastily scrambling to shift to reverse. He swung the truck around in a wide arc. Godzilla happily rubbed up against it again, trying to get closer to the sounds of brass and crooning vocals. When the rear tires thumped back to pavement, Herry jammed his foot down on the accelerator. The squeal of rubber followed him down the street until it was drowned out by the steady whomp of Godzilla's pursuing footsteps.

_Maybe I should've thought this through a little more_. Herry kept one eye glued to the rearview mirror and one eye on the road, simultaneously worried about being stomped and sideswiping a parked car. The streets were fairly vacant now as word of a monster attack had spread quickly. Clawed toes were the hero's only company. He reached to turn the stereo off but paused. _How far will it follow me?_

For a moment, the descendent of Hercules imagined himself in the role of the Pied Piper, serenading a band of rats to their doom. But one glance at what was following quickly shattered the dream and he swerved a hard right toward the harbor. The gods were about to owe him a big one and though Herry was sure he'd be duly compensated, a part of him was screaming against what he was now planning to do.

_Not that_, it said. _Anything but that_.

When the first glimmering glimpse of water appeared between buildings, Herry braced himself. He waited as long as he dared until prying his white fingers from the steering wheel, shouldering open the door and tumbling free as his truck roared off the road and sailed gracefully into the bay. A saxophone wailed out the blues.

Godzilla, for its part, seemed to see the fall coming. It skittered against momentum, trying to grind to a halt as inertia and the siren song of jazz drew it towards the edge. With a final, almost defiant bellow, Godzilla tumbled after Herry's pride and joy. The hero watched a wave surge up and break against the pavement in silence, mourning his loss. Chronus appeared beside him.

"I must admit," the god said solemnly, "I didn't expect that."

Herry forgot himself for a moment to laugh. "Yeah, no kidding." Realizing who he was talking to, the hero was quick to get to his feet trying to look as fierce and intimidating as he could, trying to match bravado with his feeling of loss. "Is it going to surge out and start attacking again?" he asked, half expecting Godzilla's return as he spoke.

The Titan shook his head. "No, I think we'll call it even. I have all the time I need to conquer the world, Herry, and you need some time to think about my offer." In an odd gesture of fraternity, Chronus awkwardly and distantly reached out to brush Herry's arm in his version of a friendly shoulder clap. "You did surprisingly well. But it won't last." He stepped through a waiting portal and was gone.

The hero sank back to the ground, looking out over the water. No one was going to believe him about what had just happened.

---

Ah, Herry. Will you cross over to the dark side?

First, sorry for the long silence! I went on holiday for two weeks and didn't have a chance to update anything before being robbed of Internet access to attend a wedding.

Now, a few comments. Lost Experiment? Yes, the statue thing does stand out, doesn't it? Bittersweet, you're right about the state of Neil's dress in the previous chapter. I completely forgot he was in only his underwear at the end of _Skin Deep_, and I have gone back to rectify the mistake. Thank you for pointing it out.

Thanks once again for all the reviews. I'm a very happy writer.


	6. Not Alone

I don't own Class of the Titans. Maybe I'll try wishing on a star.

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**Not Alone**

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Wherever he was, Jay could admit to himself that it was a very pretty place. Well landscaped, grass perfectly groomed, and nearly flat besides a few small hills and valleys spread artfully over the terrain, he could almost imagine it being someone's tasteful, expensive backyard. Perhaps Theresa's, he concluded. Or Persephone's. But beauty aside, it offered absolutely no clue as to what had happened. Jay was very aware of the events prior to the bright, all-encompassing light, and it puzzled him. Chronus had never broken from his predicable tactics quite like this before, and it was strange to think that the encounter with the Neils had, in all likelihood, been a set up to get him here, and everyone else to similar locations, perhaps even elsewhere on this plain.

His first order of business, then, was to try and locate someone who could help him. If the first person he met was one of his fellow heroes, well, so much the better. But Jay couldn't start solving this problem until he knew what exactly the problem was. Was he simply stranded somewhere on Earth, in the middle of nowhere? Or was there perhaps more to this innocent landscape, something more sinister and threatening?

The descendent of Jason studied a sky dotted with stars and as dark as he would expect after spending most of an evening at school and a period unconscious. The constellations, if he could call them that, were nothing that he was familiar with, however, and proved little help in providing barring. But Jay was determined and after fixing a particularly bright star as his guide, he set out at a steady pace. He climbed the low, sloping hills and threaded his way through small depressions that seemed to snake across the field like empty rivers.

Jay was so engrossed in finding someone that at first, he didn't notice that he was no longer alone. A soft lilting melody had joined him in his trek, providing a sort of background to his thoughts of devious plots and ways to triumph over them. His head snapped up as the gentle trill of what sounded suspiciously like a lyre finally swelled to a volume loud enough to be noticed and recognized as something out of the ordinary.

"Is someone there?" Jay shouted, searching the darkness for some sign of another person. "I'm afraid I'm lost and in need of help." He stopped, cursing the terrain that was now much more of a hindrance. The mysterious musician could be tucked neatly behind any one of the small hills or gullies, and Jay would never see him. "Please," he called again. "Where are you?"

In answer, the music redoubled. The hero was certain that it was a lyre, now, and couldn't help but wonder if he had unwittingly been dumped in some small corner of the Elysian Fields to become a somewhat bewildered audience for the dead Orpheus to serenade. He was certainly beginning to feel charmed by the lullaby. His worries seemed to evaporate into the night air and it was nice to just stand and listen to something he might never hear again. In fact, why stand? Jay slowly lowered himself to the thick grass underfoot. A small part of him shouted warning, but he waved it off. He worried too much. It was time to sit back, relax, and look up at the twinkling lights in the sky…

Jay woke with a start to the same star spattered blackness with no recollection of ever falling asleep in the first place. He frowned in confusion as something slid through his hair and out again. When it happened again, he shot up and twisted around to see what he had managed to lie in. Or as the case turned out, who he had been sleeping _on_.

A woman with long dark hair sat kneeling, her lap where his head had been. She smiled with amused disappointment as Jay got to a crouch and shuffled a few steps away, just to be safe. It was when she shifted position, gracefully, to face him squarely that the hero noticed his surroundings seemed much brighter than before. He waited for her to make the first move.

"I hope you don't mind," she said after a pause. "The ground isn't terribly comfortable when you have to wake up again. I thought you might be more cozy with me stroking your hair." She smoothed out an errant wrinkle in her white dress with a distracted flick of her hand. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Jay shook his head. "You didn't. I was just surprised. I don't usually wake up with my head in a stranger's hands." He tried not to look uncomfortable. Just what might have happened if he hadn't woken up? The hero settled for a change of topic. "Was that you playing the lyre, before?"

"Oh, of course not. Don't be silly." She fluttered her hands in a gesture of dismissal.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Can you tell me where I am?"

She started to nod but paused. "You're terribly different from the others, you know. Are you single?" Surprised, Jay said nothing. "Ah-ha! You are, aren't you?" She leaned forward, forehead wrinkling in thought. "But you have but-face."

He tried to follow the path of her logic but gave up rather quickly. No threads of thought could end well when trying to imagine what the phrase 'but-face' possibly meant. Jay settled for confusion. "I have what?" he asked.

"But-face. There's a but." The woman settled back to think. "You're single but someone else loves you?" she asked. "Or maybe you're single but you love someone who doesn't know about it?" A sudden wave of laughter burst from her mouth and she doubled over, holding her shaking sides. "I'm sorry," she gasped, "but is it you're single but you don't go for women, so you don't want to get my hopes up and maybe you secretly want to be Zeus' cupbearer?"

Jay could only stare as his mind tried to comprehend what had just been said. His Greek background caught up with him and, blushing in furious embarrassment, he shouted a bit too loudly, "No!" He tried to push the thought of catering to Mr. Suez from his mind.

The woman giggled a final time. "I didn't really think so. However," she turned serious, "there is a but hovering over you, and I'm honorable enough now to leave you alone." She glanced at him with bedroom eyes. "Unless, of course, you want me to."

"I don't even know who you are," Jay said helplessly. He was now feeling quite glad that he had woken up when he did.

"Really?" She jumped to her feet and fluffed out her gown. Her long hair framed her face, making it seem paler, almost white. "How about now? Or," she turned in profile, one hand stretched out toward the sky, "now?" At Jay's shake of the head, she frowned. "I suppose it's because I got rid of my tiara." She pointed to her forehead. "Imagine a crescent moon right here."

Where others might immediately reference popular culture and suggest, quite skeptically, that she thought she was an anime character, Jay's mind went in another direction. He immediately thought of Atlanta's mentor, Artemis. "A moon?" he asked, mostly to himself. Who else wore a crescent moon, and perhaps had something to do with sleepers? "Selene?" Jay stared. "You're a _Titan_?"

"Of course." She dipped into a curtsey. "Moon of the Heavens, pleased to meet you…" Selene looked up through her bangs at him. "Who are you?"

"Jay." He sketched a slight bow, mimicking her formal behavior. "It's an honor to meet you, Selene."

The goddess straightened. "You don't have a Greek name," she said with a small frown. "So how exactly do you know me and why are you here? This isn't some sort of prank, is it?"

"I don't think so." The hero ran a hand distractedly through his hair, wondering how best to explain himself. "You might have heard about a prophecy involving seven heroes," he said carefully. "Well, I'm one of them. We're trying to stop Chronus from taking over the world."

Selene's eyes widened. "Chronus?" she breathed. "Well, that explains a few things." She drew close enough to grab his hand, yanking Jay forward and turning him around in order to look at him from different angles. "But you don't look like the heroes I know. Cute, definitely, but less, I don't know, manly." She sighed. "I miss the days of every man having a sword strapped to his waist. Well, two really." The goddess grinned suggestively at him.

Jay, for his part, totally missed the leer. "I'm a descendent of Jason. And I do have a sword," he said, a touch of pride in his voice, "but I lost it."

"What say I help you find it?" Selene asked and pulled him in close, her lips brushing over his ear. "I'm really good at finding swords, you know."

He pushed her off as gently as he could and realized the mistake he had made. "I thought you said you were going to leave me alone?" he said trying to deter her.

The goddess' expression immediately fell. "Did I say that?" she mused, significantly less cheerful than she had been seconds ago. "I suppose so. Okay then, Jay, distant son of Jason. I will let you be." She turned, her hair fanning out to make a dark cloud, and started to march away.

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that." Jay shook his head. Well, he had, in a way, but he hadn't meant to insult her. Awkward was the word that best described the hero's tendency to handle women and this situation was fast becoming messy. He hurried to cut in front of her, trying to catch the goddess' eye. "Please, Selene, I have to find my friends and get out of here."

"Just because your ancestor was bad with women doesn't mean you're allowed to flirt with no intention of following through." She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms. "I was nice enough to let you wake up and everything, too. Why should I help you?"

"Because if Chronus takes over, no one is going to be safe. Not even you, I bet." Jay offered her a small, noble smile. "I want to stop that from happening, but to do that I need to find out where I am, and where my friends are. I don't think I can do that without your help."

She studied him. "I'll want something in return, you know." Her eyes met his with a sudden intensity. "A goddess doesn't help a mortal for nothing."

He was wary. "I'll do what I can."

"Sleep with me," she said flatly and Jay was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of something animalistic stirring behind her steady gaze. "You know me, my exploits. I would much rather have you willing than not." Selene took a few steps toward him, smiling once more. "Or if it bothers you that much, I suppose you could always dream your way through it. You'd like me better if I had red hair, wouldn't you?"

The descendent of Jason raised his hands in defense and his cheeks, he could feel, were suddenly on fire. "I don't want to do anything like that in any way, no matter what you look like."

She laughed sharply, a sound vastly different than the carefree giggles he had inspired earlier. "I'm a _Titan_, Jay. You don't say no to me." Her hand darted forward and caught his shoulder. It tightened painfully. "Besides, you aren't listening. I didn't give you the option of no. It's either awake and willing, or asleep and unknowing. I'm not too picky."

"You know," Jay said, glancing at the white fingers clenching his sweater, "I think you're right. I've made a mistake." He forced himself to relax. "I'm honored you would consider me for… that."

"Well, you should be. I don't sleep with just anyone," Selene murmured. Her free hand reached up to stroke the side of his face. "I bet everyone says this to you, but you look a lot like him."

He blinked. "Uh, who?"

"Jason, of course. Your ancestor." The hand stopped petting his face and slowly drifted downward. "I'm sorry for before, too. You do have the air of heroism about you." She stepped closer and rested her head against his shoulder. "And I know," she said softly as her wandering fingers found his crotch, "you're very manly." The fingers squeezed.

With a barely stifled yelp, Jay jerked himself out of Selene's grip and stumbled backward as fast as he was able. "I'm sorry, but that's not the mistake I meant." He ducked his head and turned his back on her. "I'll just have to figure out how to leave on my own." He took off running.

The stars twinkled overhead and Jay wondered what, exactly, he was doing. _She's immortal_, the rational side of his mind argued. _Chances are pretty good that she'll simply wait until you can't run anymore and then step out of a convenient portal_._ You might have a chance if you had Archie's speed, but you don't._ His pace slowed significantly. A trickle of music threaded into his thoughts, and he stopped completely.

He was on his knees before he could properly realize what was happening. "You can't do this," he mumbled through the growing haze of sleep. "You're supposed to help." Jay toppled sideways onto the grass.

Selene appeared seconds later, all bright and radiant as befitted a goddess. "An immortal can do anything, Jay." She kneeled in front of him. "Including you." Her mouth closed over his and he blinked long and slow. When his eyes forced their way open for one last glimpse, Selene's hair seemed to shimmer and take on a reddish tinge.

---

For everyone who was wondering, there we are. Jay's predicament has been revealed! Lucky him, he's at the mercy of a goddess.

Brat-always-day-and-night: You'll have to wait and see what will happen with Herry, and everyone else for that matter.

SilverShadow5947: Hm, yes. It seemed like it would go that way, didn't it? Well, you never know what might happen in the future. Something interesting, maybe.

Thanks so much for the reviews. I hope Jay was as enjoyable as the others.

Next chapter: Being a priest isn't as easy as it sounds.


	7. Flawed

I don't own Class of the Titans, though I'm sure Studio B could adopt me.

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**Flawed**

---

Odie couldn't shake the feeling that he and Archie had met before. But in spite of his occasional questions, the warrior professed no knowledge of the thinker prior to meeting him at the camp. Still, he refused to give up on the nagging possibility that he was simply forgetting something and it would come to him later. Odie, therefore, trailed after Archie even as the warrior was drilled in combat techniques and he himself tried to figure out what a priest of Hermes was supposed to do. The hero even put off changing out of his leather skirt in favor of satisfying his mind.

It was during Archie's sword practice that something finally triggered another suggestion of a memory. Odie watched idly as the warrior thrust and parried with his weapon, his feet stirring up small clouds of dust as he moved. A glint of sun from the golden leg brace shone in the thinker's eye for a moment, drawing him from his thoughts in irritation as he leaned forward to avoid the glare. That's when it hit.

_The leg brace_…

The device had caught several eyes in camp before Odie's epiphany, and Archie had calmly explained that he had a bit of trouble with his heel on occasion and the brace was to make sure it wouldn't happen often, if ever. He assured everyone that his weak ankle would not be a problem and by this point it was old news. Word certainly traveled fast around the camp.

But as Odie stared at it, he couldn't help but think there was something off about it; something missing or strange, like it should look different. He climbed to his feet.

"Hey Archie," he called. "Come here for a minute will you?"

The warrior dutifully trotted over without question. Since his confession of being a priest, almost everyone had become attentive to his requests. He hardly had to ask twice about anything he wanted to know. "What's up?" Archie asked.

"I need to see under your brace. It will only take a minute or two, I promise." Odie tried to look as if his request was perfectly normal. Everyone asked to view a friend's weak spots, all the time!

"I'd rather not." Archie took a few steps backward, now looking decidedly uncomfortable. "It's kind of personal."

The thinker nodded. "I know, but trust me on this. It's important."

Archie shook his head. "No," he said.

Odie didn't ask a third time. Instead, he tackled the warrior to the ground in a sudden leap. He quickly scrambled to flip the clasps keeping the brace in place while Archie recovered from the surprise. The shorter hero was flung aside as Archie managed to get his other leg under the thinker, but as he tumbled off, the brace came free. Odie quickly turned to have his look.

Where Archie expected them both to see a perfectly normal heel, there instead sat a large, purpling bruise. He winced in reaction although he felt no pain. Odie tentatively ran his fingers over the mark, glancing up in search of any reaction. Archie's face remained impassive, although an edge of worry was beginning to tug his lips into a frown. He reached forward to feel it himself. It looked painful, and he knew it would be considering the location of the bruise, but his nerves were numb. The warrior felt nothing.

"Now that," Odie said, "is unusual."

Archie could only mutely nod his agreement. He fumbled with his brace, clipping it on again to hide his discolored heel. "Don't say anything," he said softly. "And next time, no means no." The warrior stood and picked up his sword where it had fallen. He didn't look back as he headed back to the practice field.

Odie cringed. "Sure. Uh, I'll just go get changed."

--

The descendent of Odysseus was slightly puzzled when he stepped out of the tent, having just reacquainted himself with the 'priestly' clothes he woke up in, to find a small little figurine waiting for him. He and it exchanged glances, although Odie was the first to blink and take a step forward, bending to reach for the small statue. It was short, pillar-like, with a tiny head on the top and other ornaments – he blinked and jerked his eyes as he realized what _exactly_ they were – on the bottom. His grip shifted quickly to grasp it at the back, almost dropping it altogether.

One of the many milling soldiers of the camp seemed to notice his discomfort. "What, you've never seen a _herma_ before?" he asked skeptically. "Or is it not made to your liking?"

Odie was quick to grasp the root word for Hermes, the god he had claimed to represent, and skittishly held up the small idol. "Oh, no. I just didn't expect to see one so quickly." He hoped his grin didn't seem too forced. "In fact, I was about to ask for several of them. Lots, even." A nervous laugh slipped through his lips.

"Ah, to mark the path? I'll make sure the word gets passed on, Priest." The man turned to carry out his self-appointed task but paused. "Oh. I was meant to tell you that the tent is yours. Enjoy." He ducked his head in curt nod and hurried away.

Nodding absently, the hero retreated quickly into his new living quarters to hastily dump the statue in the first available spot. Face down, even. He certainly didn't want to see that when he walked in later, probably ready to sleep. There was no telling what sorts of nightmares he would have after that – most likely full of dancing phallic objects. He shivered.

Desperate for something to dwell on besides the little statue, the thinker's mind turned back to the confrontation with Archie. He had obviously crossed a boundary he shouldn't have, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory. Uncovering the bruise had obviously been a shock, to both of them, and that had to mean it was a clue of some sort. At least, that was what his logic was telling him.

_Still_, he thought. _I should apologize properly. We do have more alike than not, and I don't want to try and make friends with anyone else around here._ The thought of listening to a soldier laugh about what he'd like to do to a buxom woman wasn't very appealing.

The hero strode slowly back in the direction of the practice fields. He was pretty sure that Archie would still be there, perhaps testing out some other pointy object in anticipation of whatever was to come. Odie still hadn't figured that out. They were obviously a military party – the weaponry and armor made that pretty clear – but why they'd need a priest was beyond him. And what was so special about the city, anyway?

Sure enough, he caught sight of Archie's purple hair before reaching the actual field. He was talking to someone, a bow leaning against his side. Odie jogged over.

"What's the problem?" Perdix was asking the warrior when Odie pulled up within earshot. "You're a natural, perfect for leading the crew that will swing around the island to attack from the other side."

Archie shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it."

"So you've said. But the question is, why not?"

The thinker watched as Archie reached down to grip his latest weapon. His knuckles were white beneath his skin. "I'm afraid of water," he said quietly. Archie raised his eyes defiantly. "I can't swim and it doesn't help that I was dumped in the middle of ocean before waking up here."

Perdix sighed. "I imagine it wouldn't. I'm beginning to see why you ended up here, though." He reached out a hand to clasp Archie on the shoulder. "You're a great soldier, Archie. I'm sure we can find you a spot in the main charge." The tinker looked past the warrior and met Odie's eyes. "Ah, priest. What can we do for you?" Archie turned to look at him.

"I, uh, really just came to apologize to Archie." He quickly stuck out his hand. "I really should've stopped when you said so. I guess my curiosity got the best of me."

"How long have you been standing there?" Archie asked, regarding the hand.

Odie took a bit of initiative and snatched up the other boy's hand. "I'm not going to say anything to anyone. I promise."

Perdix smiled. "Good to see you two getting along," he said. "I hope you'll keep up your drills, Archie. And Odie?" He focused on the self-proclaimed priest. "We're waiting on you to set the path for us. The sooner the better."

"Right. I'll get on it." The hero stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep his palms from sweating. What path?

As the tinker turned and headed off to attend to his next bit of business, Archie slumped heavily to the ground. The bow clattered to the ground beside him. "It seems like all of my flaws are destined to be exposed today," he sighed. "It would have been fun to lead a troop."

"I don't think invading a city is supposed to be fun," Odie murmured under his breath. He took a seat. "Try to look on the bright side. At least they didn't kick you out completely."

"Gee, what a nice thought."

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll tell you a secret of mine." The thinker glanced around before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "I'm claustrophobic." He waited for laughter, or at least a chuckle.

Archie smirked at him. "At least you're not perfect," he said.

Odie shrugged. "No one is. But you could probably cure your fear by getting a little friendly with water. You know, maybe learn how to stay afloat without a lifejacket, dog paddle. Or take up a hobby like sailing." He nudged his friend. "A buddy of mine happens to be an accomplished sailor. He could probably take you out."

"Nah, I already know someone like that." Archie smiled weakly. "Jay's managed to get me out on water a few times and I don't know how he does it. I'm not sure if it's helped, but they were kind of fun." He suffered a sinking sensation. "At least I think they were. This memory thing is starting to get annoying."

The thinker didn't hear him. Time seemed to freeze the moment Archie mentioned Jay's name. They knew the same person. They both knew Jay, sailing boy wonder, but they didn't know each other. Odie strained to remember some mention of Archie or maybe showing up to hang with Jay after school and catching a glimpse of a shock of purple hair. But there was nothing. Only Jay and his boat and other faces and names he wasn't sure were related.

He snapped out of it to grab Archie by the shoulders tightly, staring at him. "You look familiar to me," he said. His heart was pounding in his ears.

"Yeah, we've been over this."

"No, no. _Really familiar_. Like I've seen you before, or I know you off of this beach. But I can't remember you at all before today." He shook his head as Archie regarded him with heavy skepticism. "There's more. I know Jay. He's the one I was talking about." Odie wanted to shake Archie, to make him feel the same nagging feeling that something was missing. "_I know Jay_."

The warrior grimaced and removed Odie's hands from his shoulders. "So what? I'm sure Jay has lots of friends who've never met each other." He frowned. His reasoning sounded hollow in his ears. "Besides, thinking that we knew each other before this island is crazy, isn't it? We'd remember something."

"It's about as crazy as you thinking you were flying over the ocean," Odie reminded him.

"But wouldn't I find you familiar, too? I mean, you're a friendly face now but I don't have the sense of seeing you before we met at the tent."

The smaller boy shook his head. "Not necessarily." He gestured to his head with one hand, making a broad sweeping motion with the other. "I'm observant. I notice things other people don't. You're more athletic and adaptable that way. We're different, so it stands to reason that this memory wipe would affect us differently."

Archie found himself nodding. "I guess that makes sense," he said. "But why the amnesia?"

Odie deflated. "I don't know," he admitted. "For all I know, maybe we shipwrecked at sea, bumped our heads, and washed up here to become an extra set of hands and a handy spiritual avatar for these people."

_I don't believe that_, the thinker thought to himself, _but I can't deny that it's possible_.

A cough startled them both. Another miscellaneous soldier stood off to their right, shifting on his feet. "Priest Odie?" he asked. "Master Perdix would like me to inform you that the army's captain has received intelligence. The city will be attacking tomorrow at dawn." He cleared his throat. "We need your path tonight."

"Sure," said Odie, plastering on a smile meant to convey how happy he was to help even if he had no idea what he was doing. He glanced at Archie. "Duty calls."

---

And here, at last, someone has noticed that things don't fit. Well, someone who is having memory problems. Kudos, Odie, on your magnificent brain.

Thank you once again for all the reviews.

A note to readers: I will be moving into university on Monday and as such I've been spending most of my free time preparing, packing, and seeing the last of my friends and family before the big day. And considering classes start on Wednesday, I'm sure everyone can appreciate that a next update may be a little late in coming. My apologies. I will try to get it done as soon as I can.

Next chapter: There is such a thing as too much fun.


	8. Ekstasis

Disclaimer: I don't own Class of the Titans. I'll throw a few coins in a wishing well next time I see one.

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**Ekstasis**

---

Atlanta swayed on her feet, the contents of her cute carved cup sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She imagined someone had put quite a bit of effort into hollowing out the hunk of wood but she couldn't quite bring herself to appreciate that. What got her was just how quaint drinking out of something that wasn't glass or plastic was. Atlanta took a long sip as her beverage threatened to spill again. No sense wasting it, after all.

She smiled a bit too widely at the celebration going on around her. _These people sure like to party_, she mused.

They'd been doing so ever since she wandered into their small settlement and someone shoved the cup into her hand. Atlanta had sniffed it suspiciously and finally taken a taste. It was sour, but pleasant, so she swallowed a larger mouthful. She wasn't sure what cup she was on now, but it hardly seemed to matter. Someone always refilled it when it was empty and that was the important thing.

"Hey, Atlanta." The hunter turned unsteadily on her feet toward the voice calling her name. She waved toward another girl who made her own wobbly way through the crowd. The girl bent close, her perfumed breath smelling strongly of her drink. "I just heard they found another one." There was a giggle that turned into a loud hiccup. "The party's _really_ going to get started now."

Atlanta was nodding but her attention had wandered. "You said something about guys. Or maybe not you, but another one of you. Y'know?" She bobbed along to the thrum of stomping feet and the wild call of voices that now sounded a lot more like singing and less like disjointed shouting. "Someone said guys," she said, determined to get her point across.

"Oh, yeah. _Guys_." Her companion was overcome by a fit of giggling. "Wait until you see! Oh, it's gonna be hot." She fanned her face with her free hand. "_Guys!_" she squealed and wilted to the ground.

The hero nodded in satisfaction. She was beginning to feel a tad hot and bothered, probably due to all the drinking and dancing – really, how many bodies could be pressed together before it stopped being fun and started being annoying, feet stepping on feet? – and the suggestion of company of the opposite sex had become rather appealing. Atlanta wondered if maybe she should be concerned over the fact she most likely knew none of these men that were on their way but another swallow of her drink made the worry evaporate.

All of the hunter's conservatism and steadfast embodiment of her ancestor's – and, frankly, mentor's – characteristics were quickly withering in the face of a good beat, something sweetly intoxicating, and the suggestion that there would be men around soon to take care of any and all physical wants. Atlanta found herself warming up more and more to the idea, even if the rational side of her mind was protesting as loudly as it could, trapped under the fog of alcohol though it was.

Abruptly, the music and chanting stopped. The bodies around her fell still, and no one bothered to fill the cup in her hand, which was getting dangerously low. Atlanta craned her head around to find some suggestion as to why the party had suddenly stopped, and where were the _boys_, dammit?

"Attention sisters," a voice shouted. It was familiar. The heroine had met this person before, when she'd first stumbled into camp earlier that day – or was it yesterday? – but the name and face to go with the voice were slow in coming. "We have a new arrival. _Not prey_." The last was stressed and a ripple of strained laughter drifted through the crowd. "Her name is –" a pause, heartbeat, "Theresa."

_Theresa?_ Atlanta's face scrunched up into a parody of thinking. The name was familiar but alien all the same. Had she known someone named Theresa before? Or had she just heard the name, maybe during conversation…

The voice spoke again. "Since we're all gathered," it called, "let the music flow!"

Immediately, the frozen bodies started moving again. Drums thundered along to the shuffling footsteps of the throng of women, and somewhere the sound of pipes began to trill. Certainly, the whole celebration could hardly be called first class, but no one seemed to mind. They danced as vigorously as they would have in the face of some premier musician. Atlanta danced along with them.

There was a shrill cry off to the left, and the hunter swung around to watch what was happening. A procession of women were carrying a statue and several were hanging off of it as though it were an ancient form of a stripper pole. Atlanta didn't notice as she dropped her empty cup. It clunked hollowly at her feet, but she never heard it. Whether it was the crowd around her of her own feet, the hero felt herself pressing closer to the statue. There was something enthralling about it, some primal force that was barely contained in the stone…

The music cut short just long enough for someone to shout, "Hail Dionysus!" very loudly. The procession stopped and the statue – a man with an ivy crown, horn in one hand and staff in the other – thumped to the ground. Atlanta shivered. She sure had felt _that_.

She wasn't sure what to expect next, but when the top of the staff began to fountain a stream of dark red liquid that looked very much like what she had been drinking some time earlier, Atlanta figured that this was what she was waiting for. So too, it seemed, had everyone else.

Masculine voices now joined the delighted screams of the women and the music was louder. The hunter threaded through the mass of dancing bodies trying to find one of them. She felt oddly hot, pressed in with all these people, and her head was beginning to feel funny. It wasn't exactly painful but uncomfortable all the same. She winced as a nameless face in the crowd shrieked and began flinging flowers around wildly.

Atlanta drew to a halt in her wandering when a flash of skin – someone's bare chest – caught her eye. _There_ was a guy. Finally! She watched dumbly for a moment before her mind registered that if she wanted him, she really ought to move over there. Swaying with each step, the hunter passed slowly through the press of gyrating bodies. None of the women were chanting anymore, though there was plenty of shuffling footsteps and the trill of pipes continued to play. The hero stopped again when everything started to fuzz around the edges and her stomach rolled violently.

"Ugh," she said softly, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Someone caught her round the shoulders and started pulling her through the oddly moving crowd. Atlanta caught a few glimpses of women being pulled down by men in furry pants. She could hear the wet rasp of skin on skin. Her stomach turned uncomfortably and she averted her eyes skyward.

At first she didn't register the voice speaking to her, or realize that whoever had been pulling her had stopped. Atlanta turned mutely toward the sound, imagining that it must be her name even though she couldn't quite understand the word. "What?" she slurred, looking into a face framed with red hair. "Who…?"

"Theresa," the other girl said. Her voice was pitched oddly. Theresa's face hovered closer for a moment and then pulled away. "Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"I was thirsty," Atlanta muttered in her own defense. "They have great cups!"

Theresa was silent and so the hunter began to hunt around for somewhere to sit. She still felt hot and her head was throbbing in time with the music. As she stumbled toward what looked like a good sitting log it felt like she was moving through water, like someone had tied tiny strings to her body and was pulling at her.

"Atlanta," Theresa began, behind her, but fell silent again. Had the hunter bothered to look back, she would have noted the fighter standing rigid, her face pinched in concentration.

The descendent of Atalanta collapsed gratefully on the mossy log and rested her head between her legs. Even with her eyes clothes, she could feel the world spinning around her. She was beginning to regret losing track of how many drinks had poured down her throat. "I don't want to talk," she mumbled. "I'm too hot."

Theresa's body remained frozen and silent. Her vision had clouded with blue suddenly and, expecting yet another vision, she had stopped. Unfortunately for the fighter, it wasn't ending. As when she had been struck by an arrow in her flight from these strange women, the hero watched herself standing stiffly beside Atlanta, heard the muddled words her drunken friend mumbled. She could turn her vision-self and watch the gyrating bodies that were dancing, drinking, and doing something that reminded her uncomfortably of the Neils, but a little less surreal.

_I don't get it_, she thought. _I'm supposed to see visions of the future, not visions of the present_. In spite of herself, she tried to brush the flower petals from her eyes as they fluttered through the air but, predictably, the motion didn't help. _I guess I just have to wait it out_.

A faint blur of movement caught Theresa's eye as she hovered, watching Atlanta battle to keep her stomach contents in her stomach. In amidst the blue-tinted crowd of women and bare-chested men, faint almost glowing after images were beginning to trail after the dancers. As she watched, the blurs grew more and more defined until, instead of after images, there were full fledged ghostly images of dancers moving beside their corporeal counterparts.

At first, there were only a few of these bizarre double-images, and only for the women. But as the music began to thunder and the fountain from Dionysus' staff grew until it was showering everyone in dark red rain, the doubles grew. To Theresa, it was as if they were all experiencing visions of the present, watching themselves, and she was able to see their vision-selves. But their bodies continued to move instead of falling slack, and their vision-selves danced independently of their bodies' movements.

_What the…?_

And then the men formed after-image doubles, moving to drift through the crowd of dancers. While their bodies continued with the women they had started with, rolling in the grass, hands wandering in and out of dresses and tunics, their images moved to the images of other women, pulling them close and beginning their dance anew. Theresa quickly turned away as the couple she was watching began to get a little frisky.

_Maybe I don't want to know_. The fighter turned her attention back to her own body and her friend. Atlanta, at least, hadn't spawned a vision-clone yet although, looking closely, Theresa was sure she could see the glowing quality that meant it was possible. _Is it because she isn't moving?_ Theresa wondered, trying to understand why the hunter wasn't having and out-of-body experience. _Are my present-visions caused by whatever is responsible for all of this?_

For her part, Atlanta was beginning to feel better. The turmoil in her stomach had receded and now felt distant, and her head didn't feel so tight. She slowly lifted her face from her legs and took a deep breath.

Theresa was still frozen in front of her, her eyes distant. Atlanta frowned. Hadn't she been about to say something, or was that just her imagination? "Theresa?" She stood, intending to nudge the other girl. As she straightened, however, the world seemed to double and split. The hunter felt herself stumble and fall even as she reached her feet. Looking down, she found herself looking at her body that had tumbled to the ground, eyes open and staring blankly. She felt light and giddy suddenly, a smile breaking across her features of its own volition.

_"This is kind of neat,"_ she giggled. _"I feel like I could fly or something."_ Her whole body tingled warmly. Whatever this was, felt good.

Theresa's voice, exasperated, broke into her thoughts. _"I hope you know what's going on"_, she said, floating above her body, _"because I'd really like to know."_

---

And the final hero's situation is revealed. This took a long time to write, but I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.

For anyone interested (and I do hope I spelled it right), the chapter's title means something along the lines of "moving outside one's self." Pretty much leaving your body and moving freely without it. Clearer now why I chose it, I hope.

Note to readers: Last chapter I said I was moving back to university, and here this chapter is after second year is over. I apologize greatly for my long absence. School tends to burn out my mind with its many papers and deadlines, especially when taking multiple English courses per semester. It's an excuse, I know, but that's really what happened.

I picked at this chapter over the course of eight months and have finally completed it. You'll be happy to know that the next chapter has already been started and, with access to _Class of the Titans_ on television now, I should hopefully be motivated to pick up a more reliable update schedule. That said, I am looking for a summer job at the moment. Life is a crazy place.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks again for your reviews :)

Next chapter: Everyone loves the Sybil.


	9. Sybil

I don't own _Class of the Titans_. I do own the first 13 episodes on DVD, though. When are they going to release the rest?

**Sybil**

He stuck out his tongue and watched the image do the same. He winked, and it winked back. He frowned at the flip-flopping his stomach was doing, and it frowned too. Neil sighed, but his reflection was silent.

The pools of the Lady's garden were shady and quiet aside from the soft murmur of water flowing between basins. Although the area was supposedly a popular spot for the other inhabitants, no one had come looking to cool off since Neil had woken up amidst grass and sunshine. Erom had excused himself to tend to his flowers for a little while, but promised to come back. That had been some time ago. The blonde imagined it was hours, maybe even days, but he couldn't be sure. Time had lost meaning for him as he gazed at his reflection.

Neil sat back, away from the water's edge, and gazed around him at the trees and bushes that sheltered the pools from the fields and hills outside. He supposed he could go find someone to talk to if he was lonely, but there was that statue on the nicest path and the idea of getting his hair snagged on a wayward branch didn't appeal. Well, there was the way that Erom had led him in, wasn't there? No creepy statues of himself hiding there.

_Have I always felt this lonely?_ he asked himself. After making sure no one was looking, he screwed up his face in a contortion of thought, trying to remember anything before the circle of men around him as though he were an animal in a zoo. He felt a wrenching in his stomach again. _There's something there, but what?_

He leaned forward again to gaze into his own eyes. He felt calm, almost numb, when he gazed at his reflection. It was easy to just let go, let his mind go blank, and be absorbed by his gently rippling cheeks and softly waving smile…

A hand waving in front of his face snapped him back onto the grass, blinking in a daze. "Huh?" he mumbled, looking around. What had he been doing?

Erom smiled and shook his head. "Boy, when you get lost in thought you really get lost. I was talking to you for a good ten minutes before I realized you weren't listening." The youth settled on the bank next to Neil, straightening his tunic in the process.

"Oh," said Neil. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I asked if you still wanted to go see Sybil. She's in a good mood today." As Neil looked at him blankly, Erom continued, "Or if that doesn't interest you, we could go play with the nymphs. Hylas doesn't mind sharing for a good game of squeeze tag."

Squeeze tag? Neil shook his head. "I think I'm good on that front. Visiting sounds nice. I feel like I've been stuck here for ages."

"You can always come out and visit with the rest of us, you know," Erom said with a grin.

The descendent of Narcissus returned the smile but didn't respond. He knew Erom wouldn't understand the compelling lure of the pools and his reflection, or the comforting numbness that came with staring into the water. He couldn't explain it himself, but he knew he would always come back as long as he was able to.

"Let's take the path that leads to your field," the hero suggested.

Erom shrugged and got to his feet. "Fine with me, though I don't get why that statue bothers you so much."

Neil carefully brushed grass from his bum. "Neither do I," he said softly. "I'm sure I knew once, but it's gone."

"Is that so bad?"

The descendent of Narcissus had to shake his head. "No. I just wish it would stop."

His fellow blonde shrugged. "You'll probably forget even the subconscious memory in time. But if not, you could always ask the Lady. She might be able to help."

Neil was silent. He turned the idea over in his mind as he picked his way through to Erom's field, watching for grabbing branches that would try and snag his hair. Getting rid of any lingering memory fragments would get rid of the butterflies in his stomach and the nausea he felt every time his eyes lingered too close to where the bust was nestled but…

"We're here."

"Huh?" His head jerked up to look around and the hero's worry over his memory evaporated. He had a vague recollection of watching his reflection, and then Erom, but nothing else. Even these thoughts were blurring around the edges as he looked at the nameless faces of other garden denizens that had gathered to meet Sybil. "Oh."

He couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that quirked his lips as eyes looked him up and down, lingering on his face or hips. "So, which one?" he asked, trying to figure out which one looked like a 'Sybil.'

Erom laughed and pulled him to the front of the small group, where they took a seat in the grass. "Just wait," he said. "You'll know her when you see her."

With a shrug, Neil closed his eyes and turned his face skyward. He figured he might as well enjoy the good weather while they waited, work on his tan, let the light compliment his already radiant good looks. His smile returned as he cracked an eyelid to several boys sneaking glances at him.

"I suppose I don't mind waiting," he conceded, preening.

Neil didn't have long to wait, however, as the general quiet chatter and hum of voices around him abruptly fell silent. He opened his eyes and roused himself from the lazy stupor of sunbathing, looking around for any sign of this mysterious woman that everyone seemed to love. He noticed a girl had appeared and was slowly and methodically proceeding to the front of the gathered group. She had leaves and flowers tangled in her greenish hair and was barely clothed enough to be considered dressed and not naked. In her arms she carried a large glass jar in the shape of a Greek amphora that was sealed at the top. Inside was something small and hard to see, some kind of floating twig or scrap of thread.

"Is that her?" he whispered to his friend as he pointed to the woman carrying the strange vessel. "Why is she carrying that jar?"

Erom smiled. "That's Daphne. Sybil's the one in the jar." He turned his attention back to the front, watching as Daphne placed jar on top of a stump.

Neil was confused, and skeptical. There was nothing in the jar but some wispy something-or-other, but certainly not a person. Not even a tiny person, though he didn't expect to ever see anyone who wasn't person-sized.

Daphne took a seat in the crowd of wide-eyed and smiling onlookers. There was a heartbeat of silence before the crowd spoke as whole, voices full of mirth and youthful excitement, and startled Neil who had become used to the hush. Together they cried, "What do you want, Sybil?"

A tiny female voice, soft and sorrowful, replied, "I want to die."

This response was greeted with a round of laughter and clapping as though some great trick had been performed. A chill ran down Neil's spine. Something felt entirely, completely wrong but he couldn't understand where the feeling was coming from. No one else was uneasy, no one else showed a shred of concern, so why did he feel suddenly nauseous?

The previous silence seemed to have vanished altogether as all the gathered boys and nymphs began to cry out for stories to be told about them or begged for their favourite tales to be retold. The most popular request seemed to be a story called 'Tomorrow.'

"Sybil!" shouted Erom, voice raised above the others. "We have a new friend with us, a Narcissus at last. Tell him a story since it is his first time."The others quieted to whispers and Neil guessed that something like this had happened before, perhaps for each of them in turn as they found themselves suddenly inside the bright and beautiful garden.

"What is his name?" moaned the Sybil in her jar.

"Neil," Erom shouted back.

The wisp in the jar seemed to swell up, shimmering in the sunlight like a small cloud of dew. "I have a story for him, one I have been waiting ages to tell." Her voice seemed stronger, less sad. "Hush now and listen." The crowd leaned forward, hanging on her every word. Neil found himself doing the same, his earlier unrest quietly subsiding somewhere in the foggy back of his mind.

"This is a story yet to be woven by the Fates but the threads are there. They shine in the gloomy dark of the Underworld like prophecies shine with their golden, unbreakable thread but this story is not so set in stone. Not yet. This is a story of tomorrow.

"You will die, Narcissus. You will all die. You shall be devoured by the screamers, you will suffocate in your fantasies, you will be torn to pieces by your lover, you will suffer betrayal from a friend, you shall burn and burn and burn and you will be trapped forever in a palace of bone. All this will you suffer and more as the Witch seeks revenge. But take heed of my words! The first sun will find you and the second moon shall aid you, but the worst of all that you must never trust is the third sibling, known as rose."

The Sybil fell silent, the wisp in the jar a simple, dull grey once more. The silence held for a moment longer as her final words sunk in across her audience then shattered to applause and cheers and laughter. Neil among them laughed along, first nervously then more comfortably as he saw the unconcerned, happy faces of his friend and all the others. Daphne quickly got up and took the jar in her arms again, bowing for the Sybil before turning to take her back from whence she came.

"I thought you said she was in a good mood?" Neil questioned Erom after the Sybil had gone. Around them the crowd began to disperse.

Erom nodded. "That was her good mood. She's always telling stories like that, with death and awful things. She's told all of us that we've died or turned into trees or been kidnapped away from our friends never to be heard of from again but it's just silly nonsense. Clearly none of us are dead or trees."

Neil laughed. "I wish I could have heard those stories," he said, "they sound great."

"Yeah. So don't worry about it, okay? She just likes the attention." He patted Neil on the shoulder fondly. "Come on, let's go see Hylas. We'll play a game of tag." Erom started off toward a distant copse of trees.

Neil fell into step beside him. "What kind of tag?" he asked.

oooooooo

And another million years later, there's an update. Goodness.

I apologize for the long wait. All I can say is I fell out of writing and ideas there for a while, sort of got out of fanfiction altogether, but a recent email review alert caught my attention and I decided that hey, I could finish the chapter I already started. Maybe even keep going.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are still finding this story to be interesting. Things are a fair bit more serious and foreboding here but things can't be light and comedic or completely mysterious all the time. Though, there still is some mystery. First sun and second moon? What's that all about?

I can't promise the next update will be soon but I do hope to one day finish this thing. I really like the ideas going on, and hopefully you do too. So bear with me and who knows what might be coming next?

Next chapter (most likely): Must be dreaming or…


	10. Dream a Little Dream

Disclaimer: I don't own Class of the Titans, and I'm still not rich enough to buy the rights.

**Chapter Ten: Dream a Little Dream**

Sunlight filtered in through the curtains and gradually lifted him from the fog of sleep. Jay stirred in his bed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and slowly sitting up with a barely stifled yawn. In the slow, befuddled space between awake and dreaming, he fumbled with the sheet twisted around his waist and staggered upright in search of something better to wear than just a pair of boxers.

He still felt the heaviness of fatigue clinging to him even as he struggled to wake up and put on a discarded pair of jeans strewn haphazardly on the floor. The night before was muddled; what happened? How late had he stayed up? It felt like he'd had barely a few hours sleep. He still felt worn out, physically and mentally. Jay frowned as he found his signature sweater draped over his sleeping computer. He wasn't normally so messy.

Distant voices out in the hall finally broke him from his muzzy thoughts. He pulled the sweater on and shuffled to the door, cracking it open. The voices were louder. Theresa and Atlanta were trying to convince Herry to try granola for breakfast while the descendant of Hercules sounded like he wanted to make a six egg omelet for himself instead.

"C'mon, Herry. You should eat healthier once in a while."

"Until they make granola as satisfying as this, I'm good. Thanks."

Jay smiled, yawned, and headed out of his room. He shut the door behind him.

His first stop was the bathroom. The face in the mirror looking back at him was definitely tired, almost hung over. He had dark circles under his eyes and his gaze had a glassiness to them that definitely marked a lack of sleep. Jay splashed a little cold water on his face. It did make him feel a little better, a little more focused. Now all he needed was a cup of coffee or four.

The kitchen was empty by the time he arrived, dishes piled in the sink. He figured the girls must have given up and Herry was either in his room eating or trying to find something to watch on TV. The leader opened the fridge and frowned at how bare it was. Atlanta or Theresa must have finished the last of the milk, by the looks of it. He would have his coffee black, then. Closing the fridge with a nudge of his hips, Jay turned to the cupboards and started searching for the coffee.

"Not that one," a bland voice said behind him. It sounded slightly amused. "Second shelf, cupboard on your left."

Jay nodded to himself and shifted his search. Sure enough, there it was. He grabbed the canister and set about robotically making a pot.

The voice behind him continued. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, kid. I hate it when the girl o' your dreams gets used like that."

Humming slightly under his breath, Jay poured himself a cup of coffee and wrapped his hands around its familiar warmth. He turned and nodded to the young man sitting at the kitchen table and helped himself to another seat. The first sip was slightly too hot and burned going down his throat.

The young man rested his head in one hand against the table. He had a lazy, sleepy look about him, too. The two regarded each other in comfortable silence as Jay worked his way through his coffee.

With each sip, Jay could feel some of the sluggishness leave him. He began to notice things. He wasn't wearing socks. The Brownstone was oddly silent; there weren't even noises from the street outside. Neil wasn't hogging the bathroom. There was a man sitting across from him that he had never seen before.

The stranger seemed to sense Jay's returning clarity. A slow smile grew across his face as he watched. When Jay finally set his empty mug down and opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, the young man beat him to the punch. "Morpheus. God of dreams. Pleased to meet you, hero of the prophesy." He flashed a thumbs up as he settled back in his seat.

Jay struggled with this information. God of dreams? The man seemed quite ordinary to him. Floppy, medium-length brown hair. Flat grey eyes. Dark blue hoodie and grey sweatpants. He was of an average build and his voice was fairly bland and unremarkable. He looked like so many other students seen wandering around the neighborhood and Jay would be hard-pressed to pick him out of a crowd.

"I kind of expected more. At least that you would be overweight. All the other gods seem to be," Jay replied without thinking. "You're just plain boring." Then, seeming to realize what he just said and to whom, Jay tried to recover. "I mean, uh, sorry. That came out wrong."

Morpheus shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Subconscious tends to bypass your filters. Don't worry about it. I get it a lot." He made a broad, sweeping gesture at himself. "Wouldn't want to distract from the dream now would I? So I go with boring and the dreamer enjoys my much more colorful masterpiece." This time he made a circle in the air with a finger, indicating their surroundings.

"My kitchen is a masterpiece?" Jay asked wryly.

"Can you spin a world out of the messy ether that is sleep and mind?" Morpheus raised an eyebrow. "But fair point. This is pretty basic stuff, meant to give us a little private time between what happened and what's next."

"What happened?" The leader tried to think of what his guest could mean. But there was only fog and the vague suggestion of… something. "Wait, what happened?" Jay stifled a yawn.

"Woops, we're running out of time." Morpheus sighed. He scrubbed his hands through his brown hair in frustration then leaned forward. The flat grey of his eyes hardened into something closer to the burnish of liquid silver. "Listen, hero. You're dreaming."

"Well, yeah, I kind of gathered that," Jay muttered.

"But it's more than that. My father has put you to sleep, the kind of sleep you don't wake up from until his brother shows up and takes you to the Underworld. And considering who's tending this part of the garden, well. You know your mythology." The god's expression changed to one of sadness. "You won't leave these dreams until someone wakes you, Jay. And for your sake, I would suggest playing nicely with Selene. At least then you'll know what's going on."

Jay forced himself to his feet and took his empty coffee cup to the sink. The mention of the Titan's name made him feel sick with dread and anticipation. Something about her, something she did. What had happened? He turned back to Morpheus.

"If someone needs to wake me up, why don't you?" the hero asked.

The reply was quiet. "I can't." Morpheus sighed softly. "I don't have any power over when you sleep or when you wake again. I just fill the time in between the two. Only my father, or something outside the dream, can affect your sleep. And in this part of the garden, the only one awake is her."

"So what am I supposed to do? And this garden you keep mentioning, what is it?" Jay felt frustrated. He was used to gods being cryptic or vague, but this entire conversation was beginning to feel pointless. Here was someone who must have some way to help - the leader refused to believe a god could do nothing - but all Morpheus seemed to be doing was explaining how he was trapped, asleep, and would probably stay that way forever.

Morpheus shrugged. "Play nice. Like I said, you might win her over and she might let you wake for a while. It's not so bad, really." He shrugged again.

Jay grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. "If you're not going to help me, why show up at all?" he demanded. "Why do you gods insist on toying with us?"

"Because heroes wouldn't be heroes if they didn't have to prove themselves," Morpheus replied with half a smile. The god stood and rolled up the sleeves of his navy hoodie. The light in the kitchen flickered and died. The room was lit only by a gloomy light from the window, which was rapidly beginning to darken. "Anyway, I should be going."

"Wait, what's happening?" The sky went completely black outside as Jay watched. The darkness began to creep in through the window and from where the light had died in the ceiling.

"I'm collapsing this dream. Time you returned to your regularly scheduled fantasy." Morpheus strolled to the doorway that Jay had entered from. He paused, looking back at the hero thoughtfully.

As the dream continued to dissolve around him, Jay tried to get his thoughts in order. "Wait, what about the garden? What is it?" He wanted anything the god could give him, even if it would be just another aggravatingly vague hint.

Morpheus had a half smile again. The room was breaking around them both. Noise was beginning to filter in, sighs and dreamy moans that sounded too loud to Jay. His own heart was pounding in his ears. "Where the winds blow," the god answered. "Where you go to forget, or be forgotten. But most of all…"

There was a rush, a roar, and the ceiling broke apart to a black sky dotted with faint, distant stars. Jay struggled to hear Morpheus' last words but it was lost in a blast of wind as the last of the Brownstone faded and the god vanished. The dreamscape wavered and then settled, leaving the leader in a new setting. He was on a hill. It was late. The soft rustle of trees blowing in a stiff breeze surrounded him and he could see the far-off glow of city lights to his right.

"Jay?" The voice was behind him.

Jay turned and she stood behind him, hair blowing gently around her face. In spite of himself, Jay could feel his thoughts blur around the edges. He smiled as the Brownstone faded from his mind for the time being. All that mattered was the here and now, and her.

"Theresa," he said in reply. He opened his arms to her and she came to him. She was warm and smelled faintly earthy, like the grass and trees on a summer night. The redhead lifted her face to him and Jay leaned to close the gap. The kiss was soft and sweet.

As they parted, sharing shy smiles and coy glances, Jay couldn't help but think this felt familiar, like déjà vu. Theresa pressed herself against him and they kissed again. A flush ran through his body pleasantly even as a small part of himself doubted what was happening. He remembered something about a dream.

"Jay," Theresa whispered into his ear, "please." He looked into her eyes, dark with longing. Gently, she pulled him down to the soft grass. He embraced her and she sighed into his shoulder with a smile, glancing up at the round fullness of the white moon overhead.

oooooo

Here we are again, friends. I know it's been too long, but for those of you still here: thank you.

There's not much to this chapter, really. We know there's another god about - Morpheus - and whoever his father is that's putting Jay to sleep. And hey, there's something tying wind and the garden and isn't that the title of this thing? Neat.

Once again, I can't promise you when the next chapter will come. Sooner or later, I hope. I may even rewrite this thing at some point to make it feel a bit more cohesive considering all the long gaps mean my writing style changes here and there, plus I'm probably missing details to things I've already written.

Still, thank you for hanging in there and hopefully, in the long run, I won't disappoint.

Next chapter: The lone hero or the reluctant priest. Who will it be?

Suggestions/preferences for next chapter are welcome anytime.


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